FULL NAME
STAS PETYR KELEVRA
ALIAS
NONE
AGE
TWENTY FOUR
ORIGIN
EASTERN EUROPEAN ; OF ISRAELI DESCENT
SEXUALITY
HETEROSEXUAL ; HETEROROMANTIC
ECONOMIC CLASS
THIRD CLASS
OCCUPATION
CON ARTIST / THIEF
MARTIAL STATUS
SINGLE
STAS PETYR KELEVRA
ALIAS
NONE
AGE
TWENTY FOUR
ORIGIN
EASTERN EUROPEAN ; OF ISRAELI DESCENT
SEXUALITY
HETEROSEXUAL ; HETEROROMANTIC
ECONOMIC CLASS
THIRD CLASS
OCCUPATION
CON ARTIST / THIEF
MARTIAL STATUS
SINGLE
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EYE COLOR
GREEN
HAIR COLOR
BLACK
WEIGHT
ONE SIXTY SEVEN LBS
HEIGHT
SIX FOOT ONE
APPEARANCE
GREEN
HAIR COLOR
BLACK
WEIGHT
ONE SIXTY SEVEN LBS
HEIGHT
SIX FOOT ONE
APPEARANCE
If he was ever malnourished, he hides it well. He stands tall, slightly above six feet, but he carries himself well, giving off a greater impression of grandeur. He pulls his wide shoulders back, keeps his chin high and his back straight, and he's noted that it makes him slightly more imposing, seems to give him a couple of inches. He doesn't dress particularly well, none of those fine silks and heavy cottons of the vastly wealthy, but he keeps his fabrics fine enough that, coupled with his charm and acting ability, he can blend in just fine with the upper middle class. He owns only three very fine suits apt for fitting in with high society (all stolen or swindled in some way), and he keeps them all well cared for, dons them only for the most important of jobs. There is a natural charm to his manner, a humorous twinkle in his green eyes. He relies on it, after all, to fake his way into the upper echelons of society for a short time, whether it be with a naive girl holding onto his arm, or under the "guidance" of an older gentleman looking for a filial replacement of fulfillment, or even just a step behind a bored trophy wife looking for some enjoyment and with some time to spare. He eases his way into situations and events and hardly seems out of place. He accredits half of it to his social tact and acting skills, but he also knows his well sculpted features are just as helpful.
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LIKES
DISLIKES
TALENTS
WEAKNESSES
Fate threw her dice and cast him a shitty lot in life. He's grown to be a the worst of the worst: a criminal and a bottom-feeder. But that doesn't mean he has to fit the stereotypical template for what his kind should be. In fact, he has a very healthy appreciation for the arts. Particularly, he's a big fan of classical studies, especially the poetry and plays of the era. He's far from fluent, but he's picked up a little Ancient Greek and Latin from the books he's stolen. If he weren't so busy trying to keep him and his sister fed and clothed, he's sure he could be a scholar of some sort. He has the intelligence for it; the mind for it. But he's not nearly rich enough for that. He can't even attend the theatre frequently at all, despite his immense love for it. And it certainly seems as though he'll remain forever separated from having the finest silks and cottons and just about all of the finer things in life.
DISLIKES
Stas has spent his entire life, at least as far as he can remember, acting the part of just another street urchin living in the gutter. While he starved, he watched the wealthy parade the streets of London with their fine dresses and suits. And he learned to harbor a deep disdain for them. He despises those born into wealth, who have never had to work a day in their lives for all the gifts they've been granted. And he particularly hates when those people believe their luck gives them a license to look down their noses at the working class. The pompous people who populate high society can all burn. It's not just jealousy either. He's certain he hates their entire culture from what he's seen of it. All the pointless, vapid conversation, not to mention all the dreadful ballroom dancing. He can do without it just fine. Which isn't to say he's happy with his station in life either though. When the money's low and they're forced to eat the cheapest food, which is always intolerably bland. Or in the winter months, when, despite the heavy coats he's gotten for himself and his sister, their lack of a proper home with heating fails to keep the chill from settling deep in his bones. No, he's not content with where he is. And he's not sure there's a happy medium out there for him either.
TALENTS
`◇ TACT&CHARM ; He relies on his social graces to bring back his share of money. He's terrifically good at acting, and particularly skilled at emulating the social tact and customs of the upper classes.
`◇ SHARP AS A TACK ; He's very clever, of course. Being raised on the streets lends a natural aptitude to that; the stupid find themselves starving after all. But he also has a natural intelligence in regards to literature and classical studies.
`◇ INTUITIVE ; When your entire livelihood relies on fooling other people, you tend to pick up how to read some behavioral cues. He's particularly observant when it comes to people and their emotions and actions, especially if those people are his marks.
`◇ DOGGED ; He may be pessimistic and resigned, but he is not a quitter. When he sets his sights on an objective, he tends to accomplish it, no matter how many out-of-the-box solutions he has to come up with to do it.
`◇ SHARP AS A TACK ; He's very clever, of course. Being raised on the streets lends a natural aptitude to that; the stupid find themselves starving after all. But he also has a natural intelligence in regards to literature and classical studies.
`◇ INTUITIVE ; When your entire livelihood relies on fooling other people, you tend to pick up how to read some behavioral cues. He's particularly observant when it comes to people and their emotions and actions, especially if those people are his marks.
`◇ DOGGED ; He may be pessimistic and resigned, but he is not a quitter. When he sets his sights on an objective, he tends to accomplish it, no matter how many out-of-the-box solutions he has to come up with to do it.
WEAKNESSES
`◇ SELF-SERVING ; You can tell him your secrets, and it's all very confidential, as a matter of course. That is, until spilling those secrets— carefully, tactfully— serves to benefit him. He cares about two things: himself and his family. Everyone else is replaceable.
`◇ UNTRUSTWORTHY ; Who can trust a man who lies six times before he's even eaten breakfast?
`◇ EASILY ANTAGONIZED ; Though he'd like to believe he's highly capable of retaining a cool head in the most trying of situations, the reality is he's rather hot-headed and not difficult to provoke into throwing punches.
`◇ LOST HOPE ; Once upon a time he too dreamed of climbing the social ladder and gaining some wealth of his own. He's all but given up on that pipe dream, can't imagine even trying to pull himself out of his current occupation.
`◇ UNTRUSTWORTHY ; Who can trust a man who lies six times before he's even eaten breakfast?
`◇ EASILY ANTAGONIZED ; Though he'd like to believe he's highly capable of retaining a cool head in the most trying of situations, the reality is he's rather hot-headed and not difficult to provoke into throwing punches.
`◇ LOST HOPE ; Once upon a time he too dreamed of climbing the social ladder and gaining some wealth of his own. He's all but given up on that pipe dream, can't imagine even trying to pull himself out of his current occupation.
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Truth be told, he's not even all that sure he has a personality of his own anymore. He's spent so much of his time pretending. All that acting, the faking, the posturing. He fears it's destroyed him. In his alter personas, he's as charming as can be-- says all placating pleasantries that need to be said, does all the foolish acts the upper class ask of him. He has a good sense of humor, knows when to crack a simple joke to lighten the mood, to ingratiate himself more. In these times he is kind and caring, the perfect gentleman, always putting another's needs before his own. He is humble and honest, intelligent but never overtly so. He plays his cards close to his chest even in these acts, which, surprisingly enough, has only ever been beneficial. It gives him an added air of depth, or mystery in some cases. The more curious people are about you, he's found, the more inclined they are to keep you around. And he does what he must to be wanted for as long as he needs them to want him for. He is the perfect suitor, the perfect heir, the perfect son the man's always wanted. He plays the part, and he plays it well.
When he sheds these skins, he reveals what he's hidden beneath the surface. He has a sense of humor, sure, all dry wit and cutting remarks. He can be kind, but only in a quid pro quo sense. He is not cruel and vicious, not the way he could be, because he knows the value of having people in his debt. The only people he puts before him is his family, which thus far extends only to his sister, and he himself doesn't worry about any debts he ought to repay. He has no sense of obligation to others. He is the farthest thing from honest, clever and cunning, and never reveals his hand. Stas is man of smoldering fire, a spite in the pit of his stomach. He hates the struggle he's lived with when others have never known a day's work in their life. Simultaneously, he knows he's chosen the easy way out. He knows he could take up a job with true labor involved, and there's a shame that he buries deep within his chest for his hypocritical feelings. He knows he might have been something very different, maybe something more if he had been granted a little more luck in life. He laments this loss, and it fuels his anger, his justifications that he does only what he must to keep food in his and his sister's mouths.
When he sheds these skins, he reveals what he's hidden beneath the surface. He has a sense of humor, sure, all dry wit and cutting remarks. He can be kind, but only in a quid pro quo sense. He is not cruel and vicious, not the way he could be, because he knows the value of having people in his debt. The only people he puts before him is his family, which thus far extends only to his sister, and he himself doesn't worry about any debts he ought to repay. He has no sense of obligation to others. He is the farthest thing from honest, clever and cunning, and never reveals his hand. Stas is man of smoldering fire, a spite in the pit of his stomach. He hates the struggle he's lived with when others have never known a day's work in their life. Simultaneously, he knows he's chosen the easy way out. He knows he could take up a job with true labor involved, and there's a shame that he buries deep within his chest for his hypocritical feelings. He knows he might have been something very different, maybe something more if he had been granted a little more luck in life. He laments this loss, and it fuels his anger, his justifications that he does only what he must to keep food in his and his sister's mouths.
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It's only been the two of them for as long as he can remember. That's not true. There was a mother once, fickle and absent. She'd come from a country she never mentioned the name of when she was carrying his sister, she told him once, something about giving them a greater opportunity. She kept a roof over their heads, at least. But even that was short lived. He was ten when she failed to return for the night. They waited a week, then a month, and then they waited no longer because they didn't have that luxury. Out on the streets, he learned, it was eat or be eaten. And he wanted to eat. He was too young for any hard labor, and he would never subject himself to work in the factories. He needed to live, and with all his limbs intact, if he was going to care for Syllia.
He learned to pick pockets after several botched attempts (and many bruises around his wrist from all the tight grips of victims and officers). After that, he taught his sister. Two sets of quick hands and nimble fingers were better than one. They lived like that for several years, off the coins and jewelry they pulled from the pockets of the wealthy walking through crowded streets. He learned to get bold. He cleaned himself off in the river at night, bought some nice clothes and starved for a week for it. He walked up to gentlemen, introduced himself on behalf of some vague figure of authority, and pulled the watches right off their wrists. He'd bump into respectable ladies, apologize profusely, smile as if he'd been entranced, and he'd slip off their bracelets or their necklaces or anything else exposed that was of value.
It was another two years, when he was eighteen, before he realized that if his act worked for the few minutes he needed to steal jewelry, why couldn't it work for longer? He used the same tactics, but he stopped stealing after just the first meeting. It was a little delayed gratification, but the payout was much bigger.
He's been at it for six years now. He's been smart enough to never target anyone too big, has kept himself off enough radars to live easily. He's traveled for it before, of course. Can't stay in one place for too long before suspicion falls. But he's always gone back to London. He's far from wealthy, but he keeps himself and his sister clothed and well fed and put up in a cheap apartment on a seedy street. But at least it's a space. And it has running water, if not heat. He's boarded to ill-fated ship because his sister came home with a ticket one night. He secured one for himself, and he can't say he's not curious. He's looking to pull some nice watches and jewelry from the wealthier passengers, but in the long run, he's eager to have a new hunting ground.
He learned to pick pockets after several botched attempts (and many bruises around his wrist from all the tight grips of victims and officers). After that, he taught his sister. Two sets of quick hands and nimble fingers were better than one. They lived like that for several years, off the coins and jewelry they pulled from the pockets of the wealthy walking through crowded streets. He learned to get bold. He cleaned himself off in the river at night, bought some nice clothes and starved for a week for it. He walked up to gentlemen, introduced himself on behalf of some vague figure of authority, and pulled the watches right off their wrists. He'd bump into respectable ladies, apologize profusely, smile as if he'd been entranced, and he'd slip off their bracelets or their necklaces or anything else exposed that was of value.
It was another two years, when he was eighteen, before he realized that if his act worked for the few minutes he needed to steal jewelry, why couldn't it work for longer? He used the same tactics, but he stopped stealing after just the first meeting. It was a little delayed gratification, but the payout was much bigger.
He's been at it for six years now. He's been smart enough to never target anyone too big, has kept himself off enough radars to live easily. He's traveled for it before, of course. Can't stay in one place for too long before suspicion falls. But he's always gone back to London. He's far from wealthy, but he keeps himself and his sister clothed and well fed and put up in a cheap apartment on a seedy street. But at least it's a space. And it has running water, if not heat. He's boarded to ill-fated ship because his sister came home with a ticket one night. He secured one for himself, and he can't say he's not curious. He's looking to pull some nice watches and jewelry from the wealthier passengers, but in the long run, he's eager to have a new hunting ground.
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PORTRAYED BY :
EPIMETHEUS
TIME ZONE :
EST
HOW OFTEN DO I POST? :
AS NEEDED
EPIMETHEUS
TIME ZONE :
EST
HOW OFTEN DO I POST? :
AS NEEDED
